


Brighter Things Than Diamonds, Coming Down the Line

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-25
Updated: 2007-09-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: "He's barely awake, slumping in the passenger seat still spattered with blood and filth and trying to tune out the pounding of the cockrock monstrosity Dean's blaring, but when Dean starts singing along, loud and joyful and practically thrumming with energy, he gives it up as a lost cause."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Brighter Things Than Diamonds, Coming Down the Line**  
Sam/Dean, 1,010 words  
  
**Notes:** Someday I will write something that isn't blatant schmoop. Today is not that day. Tomorrow isn't looking good, either. Yet another DTTE-verse schmooplet, this time for [ ](http://destina.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://destina.livejournal.com/)**destina** , who is brilliant and funny and wonderful and who makes SPN fandom an infinitely brighter place. Happy birthday, honey. We're very lucky to have you.  
  
  
  
He's barely awake, slumping in the passenger seat still spattered with blood and filth and trying to tune out the pounding of the cockrock monstrosity Dean's blaring, but when Dean starts singing along, loud and joyful and practically thrumming with energy, he gives it up as a lost cause.  
  
"Aren't you _tired_?" he says, uncomfortably aware that he's whining.  
  
"Can't hear ya, Sammy," Dean yells above the music, and then he goes back to singing, pounding the steering wheel along with the beat. Sam reaches over and turns the volume down about forty decibels, and for once Dean doesn't complain -- he just turns to Sam with a wide grin. "I killed the crap out of that motherfucker," he proclaims, sounding so delighted with himself that Sam can't decide if he wants to roll his eyes or kiss him.  
  
" _We_ killed the crap out of it," Sam says.  
  
Dean grins even wider. "You hid in the corner like a little girl."  
  
Sam huffs. "I was _distracting_ it so you could get a clear shot--"  
  
"Whatever. I totally saved your ass _again_ , and I'm just saying, there better be a lot of blowjobs in my immediate future."  
  
"There's prolonged celibacy in your immediate future if you don't shut up and get me back to the motel so I can shower."  
  
"You are pretty rank," Dean says. "You're lucky I let you in my car."  
  
"You can play bait next time," Sam mutters, and Dean laughs and turns up the music again.  
  
***  
  
Dean's post-hunt high has faded somewhat by the time they hit the motel parking lot, but he still looks a lot more alert than Sam feels. The sun is rising, painting the sky pink and gold, and Sam takes a moment to look, letting the beauty wash over him, push out the dark scent of rot and the feel of matted hair.   
  
"Let's go, nature-boy," Dean says impatiently, but Sam keeps watching, and Dean sighs in his most put-upon manner and moves in front of him.  
  
"How many sunrises do you think we've seen?" Sam asks.  
  
"Check your diary," Dean says. "You probably wrote it down between crying about how the cute boys never call."  
  
Sam smiles, hooks his fingers into Dean's front pockets. "Already got a boy," he drawls.   
  
Dean blinks, and he manages to fit more disgust into a single snort than should be humanly possible, but he comes willingly enough when Sam pulls him forward, opens his mouth against Sam's when he kisses him. Sam slides a hand into the soft hair at the base of Dean's skull, and Dean's hands skim up his sides, petting absently. He forgets the mess and his own exhaustion, forgets that they're in a motel parking lot in _Nebraska_ , for god's sake, forgets everything but the taste of Dean's mouth, the feel of his brother's body pressed against his.   
  
The shove is a complete surprise, and Sam gasps sharply as he stumbles back. Dean gives him his best shit-eating grin. "You're getting chupacabra guts all over me," he says brightly, and heads for the room, leaving Sam glowering at his back.  
  
Dean's still chuckling to himself as he opens the door, far too pleased with himself to deserve the satisfaction of a response, so Sam contents himself with a muttered, "Asshat," under his breath as he strips his clothes off and heads for the bathroom. He turns on the shower and steps under the spray, not really surprised when Dean climbs in after him. "You know I'm old enough to bathe myself, right?" he says.  
  
Dean smirks. "Not what I heard." He grabs the soap out of Sam's hands, and Sam lets his eyes drop shut, loses himself in the luxury of actual water pressure as Dean washes the grime from his skin.   
  
"Gonna give me a happy ending?" he says, and he can _feel_ Dean's eye-roll. They switch places when Dean finishes, and Sam soaps Dean slowly, massaging tired muscles and smiling every time Dean sighs. Once they're both clean, Sam moves forward and Dean's arms come up to wrap around him, and they trade lazy kisses, more affection than heat, until the water starts to cool around them.  
  
Sam turns off the tap, pulls Dean in for one more kiss before climbing out of the shower. "Breakfast?" Dean asks, but Sam just shakes his head. He's exhausted, and he can see Dean's eyelids drooping as he dries himself, for all he mutters, "Lazyass," before falling into bed. Sam grabs his towel off the floor and throws it into the bathroom beside his own, making sure Dean hears his long-suffering sigh, and then he flicks off the light and slides in beside his brother.  
  
They're too tired to fuck, too tired for anything, really, but Dean presses against him anyway, mumbles, "You wanna?" and that's not an offer Sam ever turns down. Dean rolls on top of him, and Sam sighs as their bodies fit together, neat and easy as jigsaw pieces, necessary as oxygen. They move together slowly, kissing messily as their cocks grind together, thick and sweet and familiar.  
  
Dean breathes, "Sammy," when he comes, and the quiet wonder in his voice, as if even now he's still amazed to have this, have _Sam_ , burns into Sam like a brand. He comes almost unexpectedly, staring into his brother's face, and Dean kisses him again, deep and sloppy. Dean's smiling when he pulls away, face open with sleepy pleasure and something so much deeper, and Sam smiles back, brushing a hand lightly through his brother's hair. For a moment they just look at each other, sated and utterly content, and then Dean yawns and the spell is broken. Dean rolls onto his back and tugs at Sam curls into him, head resting on his shoulder, says, "Wake me up before three and I'll kill you."  
  
"Try it," Sam says, but Dean's already half-gone, breath going shallow and even, and when Sam threads their fingers together, presses a soft kiss into his neck, he doesn't make a sound.  
 


End file.
